


Red Son: Descendent

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Superman’s ship lands in Ukrainian Communist Collective instead of Kansas. A nice guy, Kal-l grows up a champion of the people, but takes control of the Soviet Union when Stalin is killed, to turn the world into a utopia. Superman Robots control the populace, while Wonder Woman falls in love with Superman. An underground rebellion is lead by a mysterious Batman, until he uses Wonder Woman as bait for a trap for Superman. Tied with her own magic Lasso, Wonder Woman breaks it to rescue Superman from the trap of red sun lamps that are making him vulnerable to Batman. Wonder Woman is as broken as her lasso, white haired and old. In order to avoid capture and a lobotomy, Batman kills himself with a bomb.  But what if Kal-l managed to stop Batman’s bomb?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Son: Descendent

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the comic, try looking up Superman: Red Son on Wikipedia. My local library had like the first book only, so I had to make up my own ending. It went slashy; imagine that.  
> Blame Google translate if my Russian is off.  
> Raskol—a schism or dissenter  
> Oliver—Olivera  
> Thomas—Foma  
> Wayne=wagon maker  
> Yasha - Jimmy  
> Lebezit: to fawn on somebody, to cringe
> 
> Has been previously posted elsewhere.

Two months had passed since Diana had last moved or spoke on her own. She was still beautiful; Kal wasn't blind to that, even as she was so still amidst the most advance medical equipment available. Theirs had been a marriage of might, both devoted to their only equal on the planet. Political alliance had brought them together, but a real affection had grown between them. Kal believed in true love, but he didn't expect to get any during his lifetime, simply because of his position and powers. With the doctors having done all they could, Kal was saying goodbye to his greatest friend.

Diana, his beautiful wife, was to be sent to the one place on Earth he could never visit, Thermyscira. He'd contacted her mother, and they believed they had the magic to help Diana, even if she would never be the wonder she once was. If nothing else, Diana would be more physically comfortable on the lush tropical island than the harsh climate of the Kremlin. A final, gentle goodbye kiss to her forehead, and Kal left her to her attendants. They would see to the details of the transportation, he had a planet to run and rebel to punish. 

Lifting up, he flew to the dark heart of the Kremlin, where information was extracted from reluctant witnesses. In the two months of Diana's silence, the man who destroyed her hadn't spoken either. He hadn't made a sound, even at the hands of the best torturers. Why did these humans continue to resist? Didn’t they realize he was trying to make things better? Get rid of the poverty, hunger and violence that had plagued them for so long. That creature in the jail would know, the crazy one who would rather have died than take his place in the new order. Cutting a bomb out of his guts had been disgusting, but necessary. Kal needed the information on the underground movement that this Batman could provide. 

As he made his way to the jail, Kal lowered himself to the ground and walked. Flying would have been faster, but his interrogators hadn’t cracked him in two months, so what was a few more minutes of torture. Besides, walking made him feel connected to this planet, and his ministers had said it made him more human in the eyes of his followers. At times, the display of strength was warranted, but sometimes it was good to pretend to be approachable. Normal. Human. Lonely. Things he really was but couldn’t show the world he was working to fix. 

Diana had helped, but even as she slept beside him he had felt the loneliness stalking him. Now, he no longer had her small comforts, because Batman had taken them away. There wasn’t as much anger as there should have been, so Kal brought that tiny spark of anger to the front as he entered the deepest parts of the jail. 

Most prisoners held here awaited the lobotomy process that would turn them into the Superman Robots that made his utopia possible. Their despair was quiet as they sobbed themselves to sleep. He hated what he had to do to them, but turning your enemies into your helpers was the best possible solution. Their individuality might be gone, but their bodies still lived. If he was to live with himself while fighting for his goals, he couldn’t be a ruthless killer. 

When the interrogators worked, there were screams of pain that he hated to witness. They were a much louder reminder of how mean he had to be for the good of all. Outside the door of the most hated part of his jail, Kal paused as he realized something. It was quiet, without even the panicked voice of a victim telling all he knew. Had the Batman broken finally? Told all he knew and been taken to a cell? Or had his interrogators enjoyed their work too much, and killed the man without getting his information? His answer was on the other side of the door, so he keyed in the code to open it. 

The Batman had been stripped of his protective gear and was now only a well muscled man chained face down to a table. Inflamed skin bleed everywhere he was exposed, but bleeding meant he was still alive. His interrogators knew their jobs well and hadn’t risked Kal’s displeasure by letting the man die. Kal looked to them and understood their charge hadn’t broken yet. Four interrogators stood around the room, looking like they had snapped to attention when he entered. They were trying to decide which tool to use on the Batman next, because basic pain and truth drugs hadn’t worked. 

“No information from him yet?” 

The most senior interrogator snapped off a salute before answering Kal. “No Sir, we were about to begin on the bones.” 

Kal nodded, but for no reason he could determine, he wanted to see the person who had come so close to defeating him. He walked to the head shoved into the table. He reached out to lift that head, only to have it rise up to meet him of its own volition. He knew the voluntary motion had to hurt, even worse than the constant pain in the back and stomach. Batman looked at him with startlingly blue eyes. Behind the haze of pain and drugs were anger, disgust, and willpower. 

“No.” Kal whispered, unsure of what he was objecting to for a moment. Remembering the interrogators Kal looked up at them. “You won’t break this one with pain.” 

They tried not to show their disbelief, in their world physical pain was all. Kal looked down again and saw disappointment. Batman had hoped pain was all they had for him, because he knew he had survived worse. The damage to his body might kill him, but what of that? He had already shown his willingness to die for his cause, probably knowing the power of the martyr. What would break him then? Kal needed time while he figured that out. 

“Have his wounds treated. Then he is to be cleaned, dressed, shackled and sent to my estate. I think a little hard work will take away that aristocratic arrogance.” Batman didn’t agree with this assessment at all, if his eyes were to be believed, but Kal’s reasoning was for his interrogators. A little time and there would be one less soul on his conscious. He left the room and jail without another word, confident his orders would be carried out. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

The defeat of the Batman had hurt his cause immeasurably and most of his followers had been rounded up quickly. Some faded into the woodwork and would be a problem later. To stop this, Kal needed information from the Batman, information that was still safely locked in that man’s head. Treating his wounds had kept him in the prison hospital for a week before releasing him. If he had been left in that jail for much longer, the belly wound would have killed Batman like he hoped. 

After a quick communication to hear that Diana was showing signs of improvement on her island, Kal was on his way to a lonely supper when Batman was brought to the estate for his approval. His appearance shocked Kal in several ways, and he had to ask the guards about them. Six guards for one heavily shackled man in a goofy outfit, and only the guards looked like they had been in a fight. 

“Captain Petrovich, several of you men seem to be injured.” 

“The prisoner, sir, tried to escape.” 

Batman was wearing the heaviest, most complex set of shackles the government offered, ones rarely necessary to use. The chain binding his hands worked around his upper back and limited his range of motion. In order to stretch one arm all the way out, he would have the other pulled painfully tight to his back. The heavy cuffs had to be molded to the individual’s wrists and forearms to prevent him from sliding them over his hands. His legs were similarly limited in their range of motion by a chain that moved up the side of one leg, wrapped around the back of the locked belt at his waist and down the outside of the other leg. It would make him walk with a shuffle, but keep his legs too restricted to kick. It was a heavy collection of chains and had to be intimidating when you realized they were planning on putting you in them. 

“When you came at him with that collection of shackles? Because that would be understandable.” 

“No sir, that’s the third set we put on him, to keep him from trying to escape again.” 

The third set implied the man had gotten out of two others, so maybe the precaution was necessary. Kal did have enough to do without watching this man every minute. Over the strap for the arm chains, the bandages on the stomach and the leg belt, he wore a bright purple vest. Grey cotton pants were fastened just under the shackle belt, and the legs only came to below his knees. His skin was reddened by the wind, and cold had his lips blue. 

“And what, pray tell, is the reason for that outfit?” 

“Sir, as you had ordered him brought here instead of sent to a work farm, the quartermaster didn’t think he would need warm clothes. This was also the only thing the quartermaster had that would go on over the shackles. We discussed it, and decided he would need to stay in the shackles until he learns his new place in the world order, sir.” 

Kal glanced at the prisoner again, and allowed himself to laugh out loud. “Thank you, Captain Petrovich. You and your men should get those wounds looked at. I’ll take charge of him now.” 

“Thank you, sir.” With salutes they turned and left, supremely confident that their leader could handle the man it took six of them to contain. 

Kal turned to his new charge and kept the amusement on his face. The clothes made him look like an acrobat or performer of some sort, but he was handsome enough to pull it off. Kal frowned as he wondered where that thought had come from, but pushed it away as irrelevant. He was getting information about the underground from this man, not running a fashion magazine. 

“Come, you can serve me supper.” He turned, but didn’t hear the rattle that would precede this man for his reeducation. Kal paused, and put a command into his tone. “Come.” He waited, but found silence and steady breathing were his only answer. Kal turned around and walked back to his challenger. He got as close as he could to whisper at him. 

“Have you ever been force feed? First, you would be strapped to the table so you couldn’t even move. Then they stick a tube down your throat and into your stomach, which is quit painful without sedation. A highly nutritious substance is pumped in until your stomach feels like it’s going to explode. You want to, but you can’t even throw up, because they won’t let you. If you do manage to vomit, they just put more back in there.” 

Kal walked around to the other side of Batman, to whisper in his other ear and give him time to think about the words. 

“I know you are used to pain, and I know you are an intelligent man. Smart people avoid pain when they can, and use their minds when pain invades their bodies. Force feeding isn’t normal pain, it’s your body and brain fighting a war, with you stuck in the middle. Why might I be telling you this? Because this is how it’s going to work. You will do what I tell you, and you will be feed. If you don’t do what I say, you don’t eat. You don’t do what I say, or you try to starve yourself on purpose, and you will be force feed on a regular basis. You are not going to die under my care, so your quality of life is up to you. Come.” 

Slowly, Kal walked away, letting the man decide this portion of his fate. He could feel the anger behind him, but accepted it as he put distance between them. Finally, there was a heavy sigh and the rattle of chains as Batman followed him. A small victory perhaps, but it lifted Kal’s spirits. They could have force fed the Batman until he cooperated, but it was messy and painful. He didn’t want to hurt these humans; he wanted them to understand what he was trying to do. He wanted them to inherit a perfect world, where he could step aside and his name wouldn’t be a state secret. Kal paused before moving into the dining room and turned to Batman. 

“What’s your name?” Silence and disgusted eyes answered his question, so Kal tried again. “No one is going to call you Batman, so if you don’t tell me, you’ll just have to put up with whatever I want to call you.” 

The expression didn’t change, so Kal shrugged. “Have it your way, my little dissenter.” 

A servant stood beside his chair, ready to push it in for him. The servant took no notice of his new shadow until Kal pointed him out, as was proper. “Yasha, this is Raskol. He will be serving me supper tonight. Tell him what to do and inform me if he is not cooperative.” 

Yasha bowed and pushed in Kal’s chair before leading Raskol into the kitchen. Kal relaxed, sipping from his wine. One of the finest vintages in the world and he couldn’t even get drunk off of it. Such a waste, but his advisors assured him that the people wanted to know he got the best of everything. They also assured him he was loved, except for the few people who still fought him. With that thought, his new pet entered the room with a heavy tray of food. 

Still awkward with the new chains he managed to put the food in front of Kal and pull off the lid. Raskol shuffled over to put the lid on the sideboard behind Kal and assumed his position. He was supposed to be there, standing alert and ready to refill Kal’s glass. Taking a deep sniff of his food, Kal called out. 

“Raskol, pull up that chair and sit beside me.” There was hesitation, but Raskol did comply. Kal turned his plate and slid it between them. “Select your utensil, and eat the mashed potatoes.” 

Eyes narrowed, Raskol picked up a spoon and began to eat. Kal started in on the other foods, but stopped when the potatoes were gone. “I’m glad you have no problem eating your own spit. I think spitting is gross and juvenile. Try it again and my estimates of your intelligence will be changed, as will your punishments. Are we clear?” 

Angry, narrowed eyes and a brisk head nod met his question. Kal reached out and squeezed a little on that strong jaw. “If you don’t talk to me, I might break your jaw and send you to be force feed anyway.” 

Kal thought the angry eyes might be all the answer he was going to get, but the head was jerked out of his hand so Raskol could speak. “Whatever you say, great and powerful Superman. Or do you prefer master? Or is it god?” 

The words were spat at him, angry, sarcastic, and condescending. Nobody had ever talked that way to Kal, especially after his gifts were revealed to the world. It was strangely thrilling. Kal could appreciate honesty, even if it was misguided. “You may call me sir, with respect in your tone. Insulting me can only result in you being sent back to the interrogators, who will be under orders to make sure you don’t die. Eventually, even you will wish for death.” 

“I already wish for death, you idiot! You sow pain and destruction while expecting people to worship you like a god. Kill me now, because you’re not getting any information out of me.” The jaw was set in a firm line and Kal could almost believe he wouldn’t win with this one. He had patience, time, and right on his side, so he would win eventually. 

“I am trying to make this world a better place. No more poverty, or rich people buying their way out of trouble. Everybody has a job and a decent chance to have a life in this crazy world. Why is that so wrong to you people?” 

“No poverty, no wealthy, no starvation, that’s what you’re trying for? Well, you’re failing, miserably. What you have is people hoarding what they have; afraid it’s going to be taken away. People hate their jobs, their lives and have no chance at anything better. Your ministers and you live in palaces like this, while a room this size houses six families divided by bed sheet curtains. The meat on your plate would be divided among those six families over a week. Anybody who speaks up is turned into a mindless robot in your perfect, godlike image. No freedom, no choice. What could possibly be wrong with that?” 

Kal was shocked at the words coming his way. Batman believed them, but they couldn’t be true. “No! I took power to stop that from happening. I watch my ministers and see that everything is divided according to the laws. Things are a little hectic now, but once the United States is under my control it will work out.” 

“Yes, adding problems will fix everything.” Sarcasm that made things far too clear in Kal’s mind. Batman was right, able to see a core problem Kal and his ministers had missed for years. Unless they were as corrupt as Batman said, and used the threat of the USA to hide their activities. Kal no longer had an appetite, so he pushed his plate over. 

“Eat your fill.” 

“I only spat in the potatoes.” 

“I know, but I don’t want it. If you don’t eat it, the dogs will get it.” Not really, it would have gone to the other servants, one of the perks of working in the kitchen, but Batman didn’t need to know that. 

Batman pulled the plate to him with a hungry look, like he’d never had such a grand meal. A couple of tentative bites as he waited for the other shoe to drop, before he wolfed it down. Kal watched him enjoy it but listened to his ministers. Meals with families, servants in attendance but nothing untoward. 

Batman looked like he was considering licking the plate clean when Kal spoke again. “Raskol, if my ministers are as corrupt as you say, how do I find out? I listen randomly, but never hear them say anything they shouldn’t.” 

Batman looked like he thought this was a trap, but shrugged and replied. “Search their papers and offices for paper trails. Or listen in on the people under them, they won’t be as careful about what they say and do. Be sneaky, and subtle. They won’t expect that of you.” 

Kal thought about this for a few minutes and could find no harm in checking. He also accepted that was a solution which had never occurred to him before. He had known Batman was smart, but just how smart was he? Kal reached out and pressed a button hidden in the elaborate designs of the table. Yasha hurried out to bow beside him. 

“Yasha, take Raskol to Olivera to begin instructions for being a butler. Raskol, go with Yasha, and behave yourself. The tracker on your shackles will always let me find you.” 

Kal stood before Yasha could pull out the chair and went to do some checking. There was no tracker on Batman yet, but trying to find it to disable would keep him here while Kal was gone. Kal’s picture was everywhere, so he had a few precautions to put in place before finding his answers, as per Batman’s suggestions. A change into common worker clothes, brush his hair different and maybe some glasses or something. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

It would be eight days before Kal returned to his palace room, too bone weary to announce his return. The widespread corruption had astonished him, as he watched written notes being passed, something he couldn’t hear from the palace. At least they were written in codes, even if they were simple codes they figured he wasn’t smart enough to decipher. With the evidence in hand, he had sent them all to work camps and found new people for their jobs. 

It was a major shakeup and it would take the government time to recuperate. Kal would also need time to recover from the shame and disappointment, which was why he leaned against the balcony doorframe with a sigh and looked out over his country. Sometime later, someone brought in the smell of food and the rattle of shackles. Batman, his new butler, bringing him a late supper. Kal turned to tell him he didn’t want food, and was distracted. 

“Raskol, what’s the beard about?” Batman kept his head down, as was proper as he pulled out the chair from the small table. Kal walked over, curiosity tugging at him for no reason. Why should he care if his butler changed his hair? “Do I need to explain to you again that I want you to talk to me?” 

“No, Sir.” Raskol cleared his throat before continuing. “Decided to change my look.” 

Batman almost had it under control, but Kal still heard his heartbeat increase. Why would he lie about his hair any more than Kal should care? “I don’t like it.” 

A heavy swallow, but Raskol didn’t speak. Batman would have told him what he thought about Kal’s opinion. Except Batman was sneaky and probably had reasons for everything he did. A hand on Raskol’s head shoved the head back. Blue eyes carefully avoided catching Kal’s. A quick flash of heat vision cut off most of the hair and allowed Kal to see the bandage on the throat. His free hand pulled it off even as he growled at Raskol. 

“Explain this to me.” 

Batman emerged from the servant at the command in Kal’s voice and growled back as he locked eyes with Kal. A manacled wrist and forearm were pulled into Kal’s view. 

“Shackles prevent slicing the wrists, so I went for the throat. They found me and haven’t let me shave since. Next time, being in a hurry won’t make me miss the jugular.” 

Kal considered the man before him, and wondered what he would be capable of when properly motivated. But there was another thought that wouldn’t leave his head once he had it, which took all his attention away from that speculation. In this short conversation, he had missed the defiance when it wasn’t there. He leaned in, focused his vision and began carefully using his heat vision on the chin hairs. It was a variation of how he shaved, since razors couldn’t cut his hair. Raskol didn’t have invulnerable skin so it would hurt, even as Kal was careful to keep the heat down. It was different and oddly domestic for Kal. 

“Raskol, if I do this often enough, the hair won’t grow back at all. I don’t like the beard, so that’s fine with me.” The beard he could actually live with, but the suicide attempts had to stop. “But if you promise not to try that again, I won’t have to.” 

“And what, exactly, do I have to live for? Laying out clothes and bringing meals up to a living god?” 

“For now.” Kal released the head and sat down in the chair. “I had actually thought I might find another use for you, one you realized what I was trying to do here.” 

“Grinding humanity under your boot heel?” Kal didn’t feel anger at the question, or hear it in the question. It was almost as if Raskol was looking for an actual answer instead of a fight. Kal swiveled in his chair to better detect if Raskol was lying to his next question. 

“Have you been eating?” 

“Yes.” It wasn’t a quite a lie, but it came too quick to Raskol’s lips. 

“I would like you to elaborate on that, since you sound like you are trying to get something passed me.” Kal turned to face the food and saw the other chair. “Sit, Raskol, and talk to me.” 

Raskol shuffled over and sat in the chair, a question in his eyes. “Olivera feels controlling my caloric intake and sleep schedule is the best way to train me. At exactly midnight, I get a 1000 calorie meal of some flavorless paste. This way, I learn to survive on only what I need and always be ready for my master’s whim.” 

Kal removed the lid and shoved the plate over. “I’m not actually hungry, so my whim is that you eat it.” 

“Why?” Questions were burning in blue eyes and Kal wanted to answer them. 

“Why what, exactly? Because I don’t think you mean why I want you to eat.” 

“Why do you want me to eat? Why do you want me to live when I clearly don’t? Why do you care?” Raskol still hadn’t touched the food, so Kal moved it a little closer. 

“Eat, and I’ll tell you.” Raskol looked more concerned with the answers than the food, but started eating. “I don’t want to hurt people and I don’t want people to die. Everybody knows I’m an alien, but I was raised here. I love the people on this planet and I want to make them safe. I don’t know why but sometimes you seem to need to hurt each other. If everybody had food and shelter, they wouldn’t have to hurt each other.” 

Raskol took a drink of water, avoiding the vodka on the tray. “What do you plan on doing when your utopia is a reality?” 

Kal waited for him to resume eating before he answered. “I don’t know. I liked growing things on the farm, and I like helping people. I don’t want to be in charge forever, I don’t like having to run the bureaucracy or sentence people to having a lobotomy.” 

“What would you do if someone told you that you had to do this for the rest of your life?” 

“So you equate tests showing your best skills and where they would serve the world to being forced to order the execution of people?” 

“No, I equate forcing people to do things without personal benefit to slavery. You are the slave master and no one regulates you. You have freedom, and you begrudge your slaves as they fight for what you have.” Raskol took another drink but decided something as he swallowed. “I didn’t like hurting you; you weren’t responsible for my parent’s death. But you supported the system that allowed them to be killed for having their own opinions. And you were a challenge; humans do their best work in the face of a challenge.” 

“People shouldn’t be obstacles or challenges for each other.” 

“Hurting people shouldn’t be the only way to get what you want, but even a deity like you does it.” 

“Because I am forced to, for your own good! It’s apparently the only thing you understand.” Part of Kal knew he was getting far too defensive at the Batman’s calm words, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Have you ever tried a different way?” 

“What way?” 

“You’re the deity, I’m just your butler.” Kal hated being seen as a god by people when he felt like a lost farm boy. 

“Fine! Then go to your pantry until I call for you.” Raskol stood and gave him a technically perfect yet somehow sarcastic bow. He left the tray behind and shuffled out the door with far too much dignity. Kal downed the glass of vodka before flying out into the night. The new thoughts refused to stay in the room with the food tray, and chased Kal across the globe. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

New thoughts and all, Kal had to return to work. Those new thoughts grew and he found he had to resort to the word of law more often to keep those new thoughts from altering his decisions. At a graduation ceremony he watched in his new disguise, he saw bored people receive their job assignments. The people determined to be smart enough to go to college, the intellectual future of his world, could hardly get up the curiosity to look at their orders. 

One young woman burst into tears, quietly sobbing that she hated children. Her family halfheartedly comforted her, telling her teaching wouldn’t be that bad. Kal had frowned and set people to the task of having the tests gauge what people wanted as well as what the world needed of them. That night, he had supper in his rooms with Raskol present. 

Five weeks later, he noticed that without a state function to attend, he shared his supper with Raskol in the privacy of his quarters. Raskol was still hard to read and impossible to predict, but his quick mind delighted Kal. He had learned to fake the proper servile attitude around others, but no longer held back when they were alone. Raskol had never promised not to kill himself, so Kal had to shave him occasionally. Kal even told Raskol that he would let him out of the shackles if he promised to stay here and stay alive. Batman only narrowed his eyes at him, promising just the opposite. 

Many times Kal had to restrain himself from pulling off the shackles, wondering at his growing hatred of them. Raskol’s muscle tone diminished from his inability to exercise or stretch properly. Proper nutrition had his black hair glossy and skin healthy, but his eyes commanded the attention. Still noticeably handsome, but Raskol now wore pants with a tying waistbands over his leg shackles as the others had grown too big. Kal could have requested tailor made clothes, but that would have just confirmed Raskol’s bad opinion of his wasteful opulence. At the grandeur of a state function, Kal would find himself listening to Raskol go about his duties. At meetings he would find himself missing Raskol’s voice and honest words. Kal grew bored of the people around him lying and fawning over him. 

After overseeing the interrogation of one of the dwindling resistance fighters, the lead interrogator pulled him aside. The man asked what information Kal had gotten out of Batman and had not seemed pleased with Kal’s slow to come, vague replies. Despite his perfect memory of the pain Batman had put him through, Kal had forgotten! Batman was his enemy, not his secret advisor playing at being his butler. He decided to correct that tomorrow and settled into bed without waking Raskol to serve him. 

Sleeping was a torture that night, as Kal slipped between staring at the ceiling fully awake and vague nightmares about being a lonely god. When he gave up on sleep, he rolled onto his back and flipped the blankets back with his eyes closed. He searched to world over and finally found what he was looking for. In Chile, where a couple was making love. Not virgins, not married to anybody and finding each other for the first time. Bodies asking each other for permission to try this, or do you like that. Soft words of togetherness, forever even as they knew it would be difficult. Kisses and the soft sounds of friction that would turn into the slap of skin on skin. He loved the promise of the future this held and touched his erection to better enjoy it. 

“I could get you a woman.” 

Kal jerked up into a sitting position on the side of the bed and pulled the edge of the comforter over himself at Raskol’s words. He tried to look angered, instead of as embarrassed as anyone caught doing what he had been doing. Raskol looked far too amused, so Kal gave up the attempt. “What are you doing here?” 

“You have that meeting with the US president you wanted me to wake you for.” 

“Right.” Kal had completely forgotten about that request, yet another example of how he had let Raskol worm his way into his life. There were many things he could do for himself that he left up to Raskol now so the man would feel useful. Kal closed his eyes and reached down for his control, only to find this erection didn’t want to die. It had been too long since Diana for his alien physiology. He sighed and opened his eyes to see Raskol staring at him still. “Could I have five minutes to fix this? I don’t think President Luther would appreciate it.” 

“Five minutes? You must have been further along than I thought.” 

“Funny. You can get out or help fix it.” Somewhere between a joke and a threat, it must have reached Raskol as a command. That was the only reason Kal could think of that Raskol shuffled closer, and knelt beside his bed. The covering was pulled from startled fingers and Kal was left without protection from the mouth closing on his head. “No Raskol, you don’t if you want but not …” 

Kal lost his confused words to a moan as Raskol’s teeth scraped the underside and Kal’s remaining control was used to hold back his gifts. For a time, there was only his tenuous control and what Raskol was doing to him. Raskol did something else and Kal came into his mouth, holding onto that feeling for as long as he could. It slipped away, like it always did but Kal felt his penis twitch hopefully so he looked down at it. His right hand was holding Raskol down on him and his left might be crushing his shoulder. He removed his hands as fast as he could and let Raskol slide away to cough at the carpet. Kal knelt beside him and started apologizing softly. 

“I’m sorry! It’s been a while and you surprised me. Are you hurt? I hope I didn’t hurt you!” Raskol wasn’t answering so Kal reached for him. Raskol jerked away at the touch and Kal was instantly ashamed of what he had done to somebody trying to help him. “Please Raskol, do I need to get you medical attention?” 

That earned him a narrowed eye glare, but the coughing had stopped. “I’m fine and you have a meeting to get to.” 

“Why’d you do that?” Kal couldn’t help the question, as he felt lost suddenly. 

“Go to your meeting.” The commanding tone almost brought Kal back to himself; he was as well trained as Raskol that a servant shouldn’t talk to his master that way. His fear that he had hurt Raskol was still there, so he compromised. 

“Fine, I will go to my meeting. You will go to the staff doctor for a general physical. If you are injured you don’t have to tell them how it occurred.” Kal stood and headed for the bathroom, but turned a glare on Raskol before entering. “Go now, and bring back proof you arrived.” 

He watched Raskol leave before turning his attention to the Americans, or as much attention has he could give them anyway. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

The meal Raskol presented him with that night included a report from the doctor on Raskol’s physical state. The personal note said Raskol was healthy enough to go back to his duties but probably needed more exercise. It also said his sore throat would be fine, but he should be observed for inappropriate actions around other men, as he seemed incorrigible. Nothing was mentioned of the hand shaped bruise on his shoulder, as if Raskol deserved Kal’s physical punishment. Kal looked up from the note to ask a question, only to notice that Raskol was not in his chair. Kal hadn’t had to ask him to sit for a while now, so having the man standing in his proper place behind him felt weird. 

“Raskol, sit and tell me what he means by this last bit of the note.” Raskol sat, but lowered his eyes and forced his voice into the subservient tone he used when others watched them. Kal decided he hated that tone as much as the shackles. 

“It would be inappropriate of me to read a message meant for you, Sir.” 

“Well, yes. But you did anyway so explain it to me.” 

“The doctor obviously thought it was self explanatory, or else he would have added more.” Kal dropped the note on the table and sagged into his chair. 

“Raskol, you gave up on trying to kill me but only so you could drive me insane, right?” Raskol started to look up at the joke but remembered his fake servility just in time. “Please Raskol, I need you to talk to me. I need you to explain things, like this note and why you did what you did this morning.” 

Raskol’s head snapped up, blue fire for eyes. “The supreme deity doesn’t know?” 

“No, but you know I hate being called a god! Why can’t you talk to me without making it an ordeal?” 

Raskol stood and shuffled over to stand beside Kal and the command was back in his voice. “X-ray me.” 

Kal should have put him in his place but doing things Raskol’s way was the best method for getting answers out of him. Kal started at the head and worked his way down. Evidence of broken bones, long since healed but nothing unusual until he got the pelvic girdle. A plastic ring that Kal had to change his vision to confirm the location of, was implanted a few inches up Raskol’s rectum. Completely confused, Kal could only look at Raskol for an explanation. When he saw Kal’s look, Raskol explained in a soft, emotionless voice. 

“I like sex, with men or women. I love the moment of climax, when the problems of the world fall away. But I trusted the wrong person and got caught with a man in my bed. I was sixteen, he was thirty-three and we hadn’t even had sex. He needed a place to sleep and I didn’t feel the need to put him on the floor. The guards who came in didn’t care; they labeled us homosexuals and sent us to the doctor for an evaluation. This was implanted to keep my low intelligence from spreading into the gene pool, an ironic punishment for a man labeled homosexual. My friend who betrayed me? He was fifteen and I had sex with him regularly. Do you know what he got for his trouble? My old room with four walls, a curtain for a door and you had to stand on the bed to open the closet, it was that small. This is your utopia, where everybody has the bare minimum for survival.” Raskol’s lecture concluded as he turned away and shuffled into the bathroom. 

A shocked Kal needed a minute to think before he followed. Raskol was washing his hands with a vacant look when Kal stopped beside him. 

“That’s not supposed to be happening, that’s not policy.” 

Raskol closed his eyes to fight back his demons before looking at Kal again. “What is the official party policy for what I did to you this morning?” 

Kal blushed as his perfect memory brought up the words he had memorized so long ago. “Reeducation and medical therapy. Neither term is explicitly defined in reference to homosexuality.” 

“Giving you a blow job makes me incorrigible, but at least I didn’t take it up the ass, that’s a death sentence. I gave a straight man pleasure, so how do you regulate that? The real policy is to give the doc the nod and I’ll be one of your robots before you know it.” 

“I don’t want you to be a robot!” Kal responded before thinking about it and Raskol’s eyes turned up their intensity. 

“What do you want me to be?” 

Kal looked at him while he considered. Arguments were fine but he didn’t want be enemies with Raskol anymore. He liked when they talked and kept the loneliness away. He wanted Raskol to be his friend and advisor. Diana had been wonderful but with Raskol around all he had missed about her was the sex. 

She had loved him too blindly, while he had never loved her. She was a friend and advisor, but what he felt for her was nothing compared to what he felt for Raskol. And Raskol had just pointed out that he would have been open to the sex if he could do it. Knowing policy, Kal should have fled into the next room and had Raskol sent to a doctor. Instead he leaned forward to kiss him. Raskol accepted the kiss, turning his head so they could get closer. His hands reached for Kal, only to be stopped by the short chain. He jerked his head away and shuffled backward. 

“See? I’m an incorrigible bad influence, pulling straight men into my world of perversity. And I don’t even get to enjoy it.” Raskol was bitter and angry but not at all contrite, and Kal found he couldn’t blame him. Kal licked his lips and found they still tasted of Raskol. Not knowing what to do about his response or Raskol’s inability, Kal fell back into command mode. 

“Return to the Butler’s pantry. The note says you are fine, so you can resume your duties in the morning.” Kal moved to return to his supper and instead found himself flying out the window. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

It wasn’t dark yet, only supper time for most of his country, so businesses were still open. When he saw the clinic pass below him, Kal returned to his empty room. He changed into the disguise he hid there and found a secluded place to land. On the walk to the clinic he allowed himself to be pleased. Everybody had access to medical care in his country. The hospitals handled emergencies, but smaller clinics like this helped the workers with preventative medicine. What Raskol had gone through was probably a relic of the past, when Stalin ruled. 

Not even sure of how to get medical assistance, Kal waited for somebody else to enter and followed them in. He signed in the name he had given his disguise and the nurse glanced at it. He was disappointed when she didn’t react to it. Someday, he would meet somebody who could see the humor in it. Part of him was afraid Raskol would be that person, but other fears kept Kal from listening to his butler while he waited to be called. 

“Alexander Lebezyatnikov?” No one in the waiting room so much as twitched, so Kal sighed as he stood and followed the nurse back. Eventually the doctor arrived and flipped through the information Kal had filled in while he waited. Most of it he had guessed at or made up. He wasn’t even sure what the chicken pox was, but he marked he had it as a child. 

“You look healthy, Alexander. So what brings you here?” 

Kal wondered how the doctor knew this, since he hadn’t looked up from the papers since he came in, but that could have bothered him only because he had never done this before. All his previous doctors had been experimenting on him, or trying too. 

“I have this friend …” 

“Oh, and what sexual disease does your “friend” think he has?” 

Kal was confused by the doctor’s interruption of his carefully planned speech and one handed use of air quotes. 

“No diseases. My friend is special and he makes me feel things for him, which I’ve only ever felt for women before.” That got the doctor to look up at him, with a judging look. “We haven’t done anything! I’m scared and I want to know about this.” 

“What’s to know, stick it to the girls and you’ll be fine.” The doctor shrugged and looked like he was already thinking about his supper. 

“What? I need help and advice.” 

“Fine. When you have gay sex, you stick your dick where he normally has poop. Bacteria will eventually eat your dick off, if you aren’t caught first.” 

Kal knew that was a lie and impossible, but the doctor clearly thought he could gross Kal out of his attraction to Raskol. He’d have to look elsewhere for real facts. 

“What happens when I get caught?” 

“Reeducation and medication.” Now the doctor was looking at him like Kal was an idiot not to know that already. 

“I told you, I’ve never even thought about this before!” The doctor didn’t believe that, so Kal pressed on. “What kinds of medication?” 

“Newest thing is chemical castration, but the meds are in short supply. Unless you can buy it off the black market for your mandated monthly check ups, you’ll get a P-ring.” 

Kal’s advisors had told him there was no black market, so that was something else he would have to look into. But for now, there was another subject at hand. 

“What’s a P-ring?” 

The doctor sighed and sagged against the counter, deciding to answer the questions at last. 

“A P-ring is a ring of plastic implanted around your prostate gland. It allows the prostate to control your urine stream, but prevents you from getting an erection. Ever again, for the rest of your life, you won’t get it up for a man or a woman. The P-ring also prevents somebody else from stimulating your prostate by sticking things up your ass and a normal sized dick would probably cause the P-ring to shift. You might get a moment of pleasure, but the P-ring would slice your intestinal wall and you would die from sepsis. No legitimate doctor would help you, because he would know what you are.” 

“But everybody is entitled to health care, especially in an emergency!” 

“Health care, yes. Good health care that might save the life of someone we don’t like, not so much.” 

Kal shoved his anger aside, as he now also had to reengineer health care. 

“Is the P-ring removable, in case you can show that you aren’t homosexual?” 

“I don’t know, nobody has ever tried. Don’t ask me, I always wanted to be a chef.” Now the doctor looked at his watch, a clear sign that he had other things to be doing. Kal knew he wouldn’t get more information out of him, and sighed heavily. This perked the doctor up so he asked a question. “Now, are you going to go with you special friend or those beautiful, clean ladies out there?” 

“Girls! Definitely no guy sex in my future!” Kal put the words out there to keep his secret identity safe. He knew this conversation would be put in a record somewhere. Kal hopped down from the table but called out to the doctor before he could open the door. “Doctor, one more question.” 

The doctor turned to look at him. 

“How many times do you have to get caught before they implant the P-ring?” 

“If it was set in stone, people would do it until they got caught and had one go left. So it kind of depends on the mood of your government.” Another shrug and the doctor was gone, so Kal walked back out to the street. He walked through the city, noticing signs everywhere that it wasn’t the utopia he thought. Batman had beaten him after all. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Dawn was only a couple of hours behind him when he entered his bedroom. He had walked around the city until it feel asleep around him and then took to the air. Everything was wrong in his utopia and he didn’t know how to fix it. Was capitalism any better? The American capitalists were tearing themselves apart while his union was dying of passivity. Should he try for a middle way? What was the middle way? Confused and lost, he began to take his clothes off with a heavy sigh. A lamp flickered to life and Kal turned to see Raskol staring at him from the chair he sat in at supper. They stared at each other for a moment before Raskol spoke. 

“Really, that’s your idea of a sneaky, subtle disguise?” Kal blushed as he remembered what he was wearing. 

“Nobody has seen through it yet.” He tried to sound casual, but Raskol still snorted a laugh before replying. 

“Only because they don’t expect to see their god in anything less than his cape.” 

Kal let his shoulders sag as he walked over to his supper seat. As he sat, he decided to see if Raskol could see the humor like he suspected. 

“Would a god have a name like Alexander Lebezyatnikov?” 

Raskol shook his head before speaking. 

“Alexander, like the president of the United States? And Lebezyatnikov, a name based on having people fawn over you and cringe at you? If that’s supposed to be funny, it’s a terrible joke.” 

Kal sighed and found glasses in his way of rubbing his nose. He laid the glasses between them. 

“And of the hundreds of people I have told that name to, since you suggested I be subtle, you’re the only one who gets it.” 

Raskol blinked at that a couple of times before shrugging. 

“To be fair, I think a person would have to know it’s you before they understood it.” 

“Maybe.” Kal could concede that point, but it wasn’t the main point he had to make. “But you are the only one who knows me. Superman isn’t my name; my name is a state secret! Do you have any idea how lonely that is?” 

“You are safe.” 

Kal couldn’t make his brain figure out that leap in logic, he was indestructible. “What?” 

“You said you wanted everybody to be safe. I was trying to point out that safe and happy aren’t interchangeable. Not for humans, and not for you.” 

“I accept that you are right, in pretty much everything you said to me.” That got a surprised look on Raskol’s face. “As my most trusted advisor, what would you have me do about it?” 

Raskol considered him for several minutes, and Kal waited him out. “Find a nice piece of land somewhere. Till the soil, grow things and make yourself happy. Stay out of the way, and give people the freedom to find a better way.” 

It was impossible and Kal had to make Raskol see that. “People will suffer, kill and die.” 

“People do that anyway. We need hope and challenges more than we need to be safe. Some things you cannot give as gifts, or they lose all value. Freedom, self-respect, and a good death are among these.” 

Kal cleared his throat and looked away from the earnestness in Raskol’s eyes. Now he saw the jagged white scar from where Raskol had taken a razor to his own throat. 

“Suicide is not a good death, Raskol.” He spoke so softly he wasn’t sure Raskol heard him, until he replied just as softly. 

“Only people with hope believe that.” A long moment of silence was broken when Raskol stood. “I should go; you have meetings all day tomorrow.” 

“No!” Raskol was surprised at the command in that tone, so Kal softened it as he spoke. “There is no point in you leaving now. I have a large bed and a lockable door. We can share, completely platonically.” 

Raskol still looked surprised, so Kal stood and went to lock the door. He wasn’t ready to tell Raskol he didn’t want to sleep alone anymore. “I don’t need the blankets, so I’ll even sleep on top of them if you are worried about your irresistible self.” 

Raskol gave a brief laugh. Kal relished it as the happiest sound Raskol had ever made. When he returned from the door, Raskol helped him off with his clothes. Kal took the folded bundle and flew it up to the top of the bookshelf where he hid it. He landed to find the covers folded down on both sides of the bed and Raskol pulling off his vest. Only practice and flexibility allowed him to do this with any grace. Kal turned off the light and slid under the inviting covers. He could see fine in the dark so he watched Raskol drop his pants and get into bed with his underwear still on. Kal blushed and Raskol stopped in a sitting position to stare down at him. 

“Did your body temperature just change? I got this wave of heat from you.” 

Kal cleared his throat, but couldn’t think of any plausible reason except the truth. 

“I do that sometimes, when I blush deeply.” 

“Why did you blush? This was your idea and you know I can’t do anything to you against your will.” 

“Well, I, um sleep naked. It occurred to me that I should have worn something tonight.” 

“You realize I draw your baths and help you get dressed, right? I have seen you naked, in my professional capacity.” 

Now Kal laughed briefly, but when he spoke his voice was sad and his hand was tracing a bruise on Raskol’s shoulder. “I should give you a medal, for injuries sustained in the line duty.” 

Raskol shuddered into Kal’s touch, so Kal jerked his hand away. The apology died on his lips when Raskol brought his face two inches from Kal’s. 

“I’ve been hurt worse, so you need to let this go. You’re kind hearted, though, so I’ll have to punish you for it before you let it go.” Raskol sat up and spoke in Batman’s commanding voice. “Put your hands behind your head and close your eyes. Don’t move, no matter what I do to you.” 

Kal didn’t know what Raskol had planned, but trusted him. Compliance was easy and instantaneous. “Yes, sir.” 

“No talking, no noise.” 

There was a rattle of chains and Kal was expecting Raskol to punish him with those. He only hoped Raskol didn’t injure himself further in his efforts against Kal’s invulnerable skin. The blankets were pulled back and with a sudden thought, Kal braced himself to break the chains as they hit him. Let Raskol out of the hated restraints for at least one night of peace. When his punishment came, Kal’s whole body jerked. 

“No movement, no noise!” 

Kal forced himself back into position and the feather light touch resumed. It had to be a finger slowly tracing his chest muscles, but the lack of noise meant Raskol was holding his chains still too. When the finger found its way to Kal’s legs, he had to bite his lip to keep from telling Raskol where his penis was. At some point Raskol must have switched fingers or changed position but Kal was too far gone to care. Only one of Raskol’s fingers touched him now, and Kal was so hard he couldn’t kill this erection if he had to. With aching slowness the finger trailed over his feet before finding its way to his inner thighs. This sweet anticipation had Kal beyond ready, and the finger went away. He started to protest and got another command. 

“Silence!” 

Wet heat latched onto his left nipple, and Kal tasted blood as he bit through his lip. The tongue completed a circuit down his body opposite what the finger had done, and even slower. He was so ready as that mouth came to his inner thigh, surely this torture was headed there! Raskol had to know of Kal’s need! Unless he didn’t, which was why he pulled away where the finger had left too. Kal held his breath, least he make a sound and force Raskol to punish him more. 

Not that it hadn’t felt extremely good, and now he really wanted to know what else Raskol could do to him. He wanted Raskol whole, and able to accept pleasure as well. Raskol made him happy, so screw the world and what they thought of them! Except Kal couldn’t have what he wanted; he had responsibilities. Despair clawed at him, and he whimpered. 

“I’m impressed. Almost thirty minutes without a sound, I didn’t know you had it in you.” The compliment was genuine and in Raskol’s voice, the rarest thing in Kal’s universe. 

The soft lips on his own knew how to kiss and it took all of Kal’s control not to pull that head even closer to him. As Raskol kissed him, he reached out and gave Kal’s penis one deft stroke. Kal groaned his orgasm into the mouth still plundering his. When his shudders stopped, Raskol pulled away. He was sliding to the edge of the bed, like he planned on getting up. That broke Kal’s control and he reached out to grab Raskol’s wrist, but gently. 

“I’m going to get you a towel, I will return.” 

Kal considered, and didn’t like that idea at all. “No. You get comfortable, and I will return.” 

He tried to speed away and found his skin was hypersensitive, so he had to walk or risk another erection and torture session. When he returned from cleaning up, he found Raskol laying on his stomach. The pillow under his chest caused his neck to bend at a weird angle and put the top of his head on the mattress. The thick chains crossed on his back, so he slept on his stomach. The chains on the sides of his legs prevented him from sleeping on his side. The angle of his neck was probably less painful to him than twisting his head from side to side all night long. The blankets had been flipped over to cover the wet spot, so Kal lay down. Kal spoke softly, so Raskol could pretend to be asleep if he wanted. 

“Promise not to commit suicide, please Raskol. I hate the chains that bind you, and I only have to see them.” Sharp eyes glanced at him in the dark. 

“I like them. They show everyone that I still defy the deity Superman.” There was no anger there, only acceptance. The eyes closed as Raskol settled in for sleep. Kal closed his eyes as well and settled in to fight the loneliness. Whispered words in the dark did that for him. “You, sir, I could get used to.” 

“Kal.” The word was spoken for the first time since Diana had left and it felt freeing. Kal pulled Raskol to him, and replaced the pillow with his arm. “My name is Kal.” 

“Sleep well, Kal.” With a grin on his face, Kal did just that. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

An unusual noise pulled them from sleep, but Kal ignored it in favor of looking at the man in his arms. Raskol was under the blankets but had snuggled as close to Kal as he could in the night. He was blinking sleep and confusion from his eyes he looked for the noise. 

Anger and sorrow tugged at Kal as he realized why Raskol was so close to him. Raskol was an honest man, and if any of the people in his life expressed an interest in him, he would have told them of the P-ring. They would have backed off, leaving him alone with his inability. Maybe they would have stayed friends, with a pat on the back or handshake, but simple human contact was now denied to Raskol. Kal put the anger of that knowledge behind his voice as he answered the phone. 

“What?” Kal held onto that anger like a shield, as Olivera’s tentative voice explained he was late for a meeting. Kal didn’t want to go, but knew his head of household needed a good reason. “Give my apologies to the minister; tell him I was punishing my butler.” 

On the word ‘punishing’ Kal traced a single finger over the side of Raskol’s face, and Raskol turned into that touch. Kal really didn’t want to go now. “Actually, reschedule all my meetings for today. I think I need to take some time to teach Raskol just how the world works.” 

There was hesitation at his words before the fawning voice said something that almost had Kal laughing out loud. Raskol sent confusion at the change in Kal’s emotions. Kal laid the phone down and pulled Raskol over him at a slight angle. Their bare chests met and Raskol’s head was in the crook of his neck as Kal spoke for the phone. His effort to not laugh had his voice even harsher than the earlier anger. 

“Come, Raskol! It seems you hold my schedule in your thick head.” 

Raskol turned a laugh into a choking sob as he understood the humor. “I swear I will do better, kind sir!” 

Kal slapped his hand on his own bare thigh for good measure and Raskol whimpered into the phone before directing Olivera on how to rearrange things. When Raskol hung up the phone, Kal wrapped his arms around him. Kal was happy to have a day of rest, holding Raskol. The soft words Raskol started whispering to him made him joyous. 

“My father, Foma, was a carpenter. He specialized in wagons and carts, but he was also the doctor in our village. He was in the medical corps when he was a soldier and had skilled hands. The nearest clinic was a three day walk for a healthy person, so people came to him. My mother, Marfa, was the village teacher. She loved history and valued those who fought for independence. When she was pregnant she took up the crusade against the government. She named me after my father and Robert the First, the king of Scotland who won Scottish independence from the British. Or she tried, anyway. I don’t know if she like the sound or got the translation wrong, but he went by Robert the Bruce. I don’t remember my last name, as they changed my name when I was put into the state orphanage. I tell you this, so you understand my strange name. I was born Foma Bruce, son of the wagon maker. My village called me Bruce.” 

Kal released his hold to pull Raskol to him for a kiss. When Raskol pulled away a few minutes later, Kal let him. “Pleased to meet you, Bruce.” 

Kal held Bruce to him, happy to stay that way for eternity. He closed out the world and listened to Bruce fall asleep in his arms. Reveled in the deep, relaxed breathes and ignored the clack of chains that shifted when Bruce moved. Pretended only the two of them mattered, and responsibilities didn’t work to keep them enemies. Bruce, who had been trained to serve Kal’s whims and had shown himself more honorable than any man Kal had ever known. 

Olivera had trained Bruce to do without food, so it was Kal’s stomach that protested the lost meal. The loud growl, shortly before noon, roused Bruce so he could look into Kal’s face. Kal blushed and tried to look innocent. Bruce got a devilish look in his eye and a hand wrapped around Kal’s penis. Kal’s blush deepened at the almost instantaneous hardness. Holding onto his control, Kal made an effort at explaining. 

“You don’t have to service me that way. I love it, but I would never require it of you.” Bruce responded in a voice that melted Kal’s control away, even as his words pushed Kal toward completion. 

“Punishing you is my only source of pleasure. Surely you wouldn’t take that away from me.” Kal moaned in response and kept his arms from pulling Bruce any closer and hurting him. That was all he could do until Bruce lead him over that point of bliss. He was still relishing it when Bruce spoke. “Let me up, so I can go get your lunch.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“I need to go, or Olivera will bring it up. He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.” 

“Damn reality.” Kal muttered, but let Bruce free. Bruce sighed his agreement before getting up and walking to his clothes. A sudden thought pulled Kal into a sitting position as he called out. “Bruce, can I see you?” 

Bruce was confused, but he words showed he knew what Kal was asking. “Why?” 

“I’ve never seen another man and I want to know all of you.” Bruce shrugged, but pulled off his raggedy underwear. Kal took a long look, noting the differences between them. He wanted to know what Bruce could have done if he was whole, but dare not ask. “Thank you, Bruce. I’ll unlock the door while you get dressed and shower while you get lunch. Tell them I’m really hungry, so you can eat your fill.” 

Bruce pulled up his underwear and picked up his other clothes. He carried them into the bathroom but stopped in the doorway. “Sir, I think Raskol will suffice. You wouldn’t want your ministers to get the wrong impression.” 

“Understood, Raskol.” 

Bruce shuffled into the bathroom, getting ready to face the people downstairs. Kal walked over and unlocked the door, hating secrets. He stood by the door and waited for Raskol to come his way. When they were shoulder to shoulder, Kal traced the fading bruise. “Raskol, you might find an opportunity to tell Olivera that you fear heights. He will understand that my exploitation of this fear is why your punishments do not mark you. I refuse to hurt you again, for any reason.” 

Raskol leaned over to kiss him, briefly and with only his lips touching Kal. “Understood, sir.” 

sB _Sb_ Bs

That day of rest, when they talked to each other, ate together and slept together again, sustained Kal over the coming months. He had health care to reform, a black market to destroy, and discriminatory legislation to change. Ministers flattered him, but met in secret to question his decisions. His disguise continued to serve him well, as he ferreted out information. Raskol served as a sounding board for every decision before it was made public. Sometimes Kal went with his original idea, but usually between them they developed brilliant plans. 

Kal tried not to, but found himself asking Raskol to punish him on a nightly basis, after supper. Every nine days, Kal would set the privacy lock and allow himself to hold Bruce for a night. He hoped the odd number would keep people from seeing the pattern and taking that joy away from him. He was thinking about shortening it to seven days, which would keep Raskol with him tonight, when he returned from a daylong meeting with the health ministers. Raskol was standing beside the table, with his back to the wall. His head was lowered and this was enough of a signal for Kal to understand something was wrong. He took in the room and saw what was missing. 

“What’s for supper, Raskol?” Bruce dropped to his knees like he’d been hit. 

“I don’t know, sir. I got behind in my duties and haven’t gotten it yet.” Kal was sickened by the panicked groveling tone, but used that disgust to deepen his voice. 

“What did I say I would do to you the next time you failed me?” 

Raskol covered his eyes and whimpered. “You said you would take me to the roof of the tallest spire in the palace.” 

“And you still failed me!” A burst of speed and Raskol was in his arms, where he belonged. Kal was out and up before he let his pleasure touch his face. He was grinning like a fool when he landed on the spire Raskol had indicated, until Raskol slithered out of his arms and knelt on the roof. Surprised, Kal asked him. “You’re not really afraid of heights are you?” 

“No, I just don’t know what cameras can see us.” 

“Good point.” Kal turned around casually, taking a look. “Too many to accidentally damage without raising suspicion. They are far away, so people will only see our outlines and they won’t be able to hear us. So you can tell me what’s going on.” 

“They come in to do a thorough cleaning once a week, beyond what I do daily. Olivera brought workmen with him today, and made sure I was unable to watch them. He was talking about the good of the union and how as a former terrorist I could understand that nobody should be above the law. Vague, suspicious words that I tried not to react to. I think they planted cameras or recording devices in your rooms.” 

Kal snorted. “If they want me to step aside, all they have to do is ask.” 

“No, they need you to keep people in line. I think they want to use extortion to turn you into a powerless enforcer. Your changes in policy are upsetting the apple cart, so to speak.” 

Kal froze and kept his blush from coming to his face. The only thing he had ever done against policy or party was the only thing that brought him joy. His body wouldn’t accept the P-ring so proof would only damage his control of the union. The only person he could trust, knelt at his feet. He was so tempted to take Bruce and leave, but too many people would be hurt if he abandoned his duties. 

“You’ve had time to think about this, so what plan did you come up with?” 

“You won’t like it.” Kal almost laughed at that statement. 

“Thanks for the warning. Please continue.” 

“I know how to take a fall or a punch without getting hurt. I suggest you land, determine the location of the devices and throw me around a little. When I impact a wall the vibrations might cause the thing to break, especially if you help it along. Use of your heat vision might destroy a few, when I flee your rage. I don’t know enough about the devices to suggest anything better.” 

“You’re right, I don’t like it.” Kal stepped forward and picked Raskol up by the chain belt on his chest. With one hand he lifted the man up in front of him. There was no fear in Raskol’s beautiful eyes, which almost ruined Kal’s willingness to put on this show for the cameras. “Can you promise you won’t get hurt?” 

“It will work.” 

Kal could accept that but didn’t let himself pull Raskol to him. He flew back to the room with Raskol hanging off his arm and his vision set to x-ray the suite of rooms. Even after he located the devices he kept his eyes that way, so he wouldn’t have to see what he was doing to Raskol. 

He tossed Raskol around, yelled at him as he punched the wall and held him up against the wall to fry some of his hair off. Raskol cringed and cowered before him, shaking and wailing as he hid his eyes. Kal was impressed with Raskol’s acting and decided to do some of his own. When Kal was satisfied they were unobserved he stalked over to growl down at Raskol’s trembling form. 

“Take your vest off. I want to see the scars of your refusal.” Kal saw Raskol jerk in an effort not to look his confusion at Kal. He turned it into an awkward removal of his vest. “Good. Now go lay face down on the bed.” 

Raskol had to look at him after that, but Kal only pointed imperially toward the bed. When Raskol was on the bed, Kal hovered over him to pull his arms to his sides and hold them there with the chain. Then Kal began to caress and kiss his exposed skin. Kal loved to do this, but Raskol would say it was a stupid waste of time. Why bother waking up his body, when Raskol couldn’t do anything with it? Raskol kept his head facing the bed even as he started to complain. 

“I take it we’re no longer being observed.” 

“No, but I have you right where I want you, so the day’s not a total loss.” 

“You know there’s no point in this.” 

“Actually, there are several points involved at this time.” Kal returned to nuzzle Bruce’s back even as he went on to explain. “If you go get my supper now, they will wonder at the timing. I probably hurt you more than you will admit, so I have to apologize to your poor body. My third point is this.” 

Raskol hissed as Kal let him feel his erection. When Raskol started moving, Kal let him go, thinking he would use his hands and mouth as he had so often before. Raskol pulled his legs under him, until his butt pressed against Kal. His folded position allowed him to pull down his pants and underwear. The exposed skin under him invited Kal and promised him paradise. Except his paradise was Bruce’s death, and that thought brought back his control. 

“Kiss me Bruce, because I won’t take you this way.” If he didn’t know it was impossible, Kal would have thought Bruce just sobbed into the mattress. 

“Please Kal, I want you and I can’t have you. They say you get a moment of pleasure, something to hold on to while you slowly die of infection. I thought about dying that way before but couldn’t let my death spoil somebody else’s pleasure. I can’t get an erection, but I still want you, desire you. I shouldn’t have started this but you’re so beautiful. When I saw you aroused that morning, I couldn’t turn away. Please Superman, be merciful and end this torture!” 

When the words were finished, Kal pulled the cloth back over Bruce’s butt. Kal then adjusted his clothes where they had accommodated an erection that was no longer there. He pulled Bruce to him and settled them under the covers. With Bruce on his right arm, Kal used his left to phone Olivera. “Raskol is passed out in fear from his last attitude adjustment, so send my supper up with Yasha.” 

Kal took Olivera’s assurances that it would be done and comforted Bruce until he heard Yasha outside. He moved to replace his arm with a pillow and Raskol slid into the floor, where he wouldn’t be seen from the main door. Kal straightened his uniform and allowed Yasha to serve him supper, but dismissed him from standing around to refill the glasses. When Yasha was gone, Kal turned to find Raskol walking to his chair. Supper sat between them until Kal decided to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry!” They both spoke at the same time, but Bruce gestured for Kal to speak before Kal could do the same. 

“I didn’t realize, I didn’t think about desire being more than an erection. If I had, I wouldn’t have allowed the sex to continue.” 

Bruce sighed at Kal’s words. “I enjoyed the sex, as much as I was able, or I wouldn’t have let it continue either. I shouldn’t have broken down like that, it hurt you unnecessarily.” 

“Bruce, you can’t be so concerned about my feelings that you forget about yours. It will only make us both unhappy.” Bruce studied him for a long moment before standing. Kal tried to figure out what he was thinking as he shuffled over, but it wasn’t until Bruce knelt before him that Kal understood. “Don’t Bruce! We don’t need to do this, we can go back.” 

Kal stopped speaking as he understood they couldn’t go back to what they had been before. Enemies, servant and master, or even friends wouldn’t do anymore, now that they were lovers. Not because of the one-sided sex, but because they loved each other. Kal held onto the arms of the chair and that knowledge as Bruce expertly worked his cock. 

Kal rode the shuddering waves of receding pleasure until he heard the soft click of the door closing. With his enhanced vision he watched Bruce shuffled away to his small room in the servant’s quarters. Bruce took his stuff to a communal bathroom to shower before propping himself into his sleeping position. Kal stayed awake all night to watch Raskol and fight back dark thoughts. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Kal started x-raying every room he went into, checking for electronic spies. Raskol started to get a little muscle tone back as he got so much practice in at being thrown around. Raskol had suggested Kal let the bugging continue until he could find evidence on who was behind it. 

Much to Kal’s relief, Raskol hadn’t tried anything suicidal but he was pulling away emotionally. He stopped answering to Bruce, and only called Kal sir. He kept his eyes lowered unless answering a direct question and would only allow sex when Kal promised not to make him spend the night. 

Kal could spend all day debating that question, only to have to flip a coin when it came time to decide. Sex was safer, because nobody would check in on Raskol and find he wasn’t in bed. Kal knew it was for his protection, he accepted that Raskol believed him a better ruler than Batman had. But that knowledge didn’t stop him from missing what they had enjoyed, not so long ago. 

After a long day of meetings with lying, sycophantic ministers, Kal returned to his empty suite. He was changing out of his clothes as he x-rayed the rooms, surprised to find them clean until a strange object caught his eye. Under the corner of his bed nearest to where his head usually rested, was a large metal ball. He floated horizontally an inch off the carpet to slide under the bed and look at it with normal vision. He was considering touching it when Raskol brought in the supper tray. 

“Raskol, could you come into the bedroom for a minute?” His shuffling, rattling footsteps stopped when he could see Kal’s legs. When he walked forward again, Raskol had removed the confusion from his voice. 

“What can I help you with, sir?” 

“Join me under the bed, and help me figure out what this thing is. I saw it when I was looking for surveillance. I didn’t find any of that, and this thing isn’t emitting an electronic signal I can hear.” Raskol was having a hard time sliding under the bed because of his chains, but he didn’t have to get very far in to provide an answer. 

“Sir, that is a pressure bomb, apparently set with the intention of killing you when you go to bed tonight.” 

“Really, they think they can kill me with a bomb?” Kal snorted and reached for it. 

“No!” Kal froze as Raskol commanded. As more words came, Kal let his hand drop back to the ground. 

“It has a plastic explosive, probably wrapped around this meteor rock. The rock is from a meteor shower in the United States the same night as your arrival. The combination of the two might be enough to kill even you; at least that’s what it looks like to me.” 

Kal listened to Raskol’s body, but kept his eyes on the metallic orb. “You seem to know about this little device, would you care to tell me why?” 

“I might have researched it, designed it, and built it, back when I was trying to kill you.” 

The words were the truth and Kal found he was impressed. He wasn’t hurt, because he knew Raskol had been his enemy. Neither the red sun lamps that had nearly killed Kal nor the intestinal bomb in Batman were available everywhere. Kal had given up on getting information on the underground from Raskol, but never thought about where he had gotten his toys. 

“You do good work. This rock will hurt or kill me?” 

“There were reports about it doing things to humans exposed to it for a long time. That showed it was special, but I could only theorize about what it would do to you.” 

“The explosive though, wouldn’t that kill humans too?” 

“Yes, that’s why I planned to plant it here, get only you and Wonder Woman.” 

“So why did you attack like you did?” 

“We lost contact with our supplier of the rock, so I never got any to put in my bomb.” 

“So where do you think this one came from?” 

“Ioann, my second in command. He was always a risk taker and crazy enough to try this. But he must have had help on the inside.” 

“If this rock can harm me, why don’t I feel it now?” 

“Lead casing. Our American contact said the lead blocked the radiation of the rock.” 

“Could you remove the rock without setting off the bomb?” Kal asked slowly, as a plan quickly formed in his mind. 

“With the proper tools. Why would you want it active though?” 

“I want to fake our deaths.” 

“To trap the mole?” Bruce sounded impressed with the plan, so Kal kind of hated to disappoint him. 

“No. I want to take you away from all this fighting. Till the soil, grow things, and get out of the way.” Kal slide his hand over to fold it around Bruce’s. His breathing hitched at the contact but his reply was in a calm voice. 

“That’s kind of a change for you.” 

“My ministers hate me because I want everybody to have a fair shot. People hate me because my ministers are corrupt. I torture, maim, and kill for the good of all. It isn’t working, and I need to find a better way.” 

“There will be suffering.” 

“I know, and I wouldn’t do it if all that was at stake was my happiness. If it doesn’t work, I can come back and take control again.” Silence hung between them while Bruce squeezed Kal’s hand. Bruce release that hand to speak. 

“I can’t fake my death with you.” 

Kal had to hold himself perfectly still and stare at the orb. Demanding an answer had never worked with Raskol, no matter how great Kal’s need. “Why not?” 

“If we die together, they could claim we were inappropriate together. Or that I was using sexual favors to influence you, all my records know what I am. All your work to make the laws fair and change people’s minds about homosexuality will be wasted.” Kal reached for Bruce’s hand again as Bruce started shoving his way out from under the bed. “I will go get the tools I need. You should eat your supper, sir.” 

Kal waited until Bruce had left the room before letting himself get out from under the bed. He got his disguise down and decided a few pieces of the jewelry he had would serve in case he needed money. He never wore the jewelry, but people still gave it to him as gifts. Half of the pieces had simply come with the job and he hadn’t known what to do with them. He was still looking through the large box, trying to find simple pieces no one would miss after his death when Raskol returned. Raskol slid under the bed without a word and set to work. Kal had just put his pouch of jewelry with his clothes when he felt it. 

Pain and sickness like he had never felt before, clawing at him, telling him death was his only release. It was tempting and Kal could understand Raskol’s attraction to the sweet release of death, but he didn’t share it. Kal crawled away from the source unsure of why he couldn’t walk anymore. He wasn’t sure of where he was going, just away, so it was a surprise when he ran into the bathroom wall. Out of room and without the strength to find his way out Kal collapsed and left his life in Raskol’s hands. A good decision he felt, as Raskol started calling out to him, from so far away. 

“Sir? Sir? Kal! Wait, Kal!” Retreating footsteps and the clang of metal and something reduced the pain. It was still there but Kal unclench a little and turn to see a worried Raskol kneeling beside him. 

“Kal, are you hurt? I put it in under the food cover but I don’t think that has enough lead to help for long. I have to get that rock out of here. You need to listen to me. I left some in the bomb and shaped the charge. It should be very destructive, but the rock will splatter the walls. This way they know what killed you, because they know a normal bomb wouldn’t do it. The bed should protect you from the rock, but if you’re not recovered enough, don’t do it tonight.” 

Raskol started to rise, but Kal managed to feebly grab onto his arm chain. “Bruce, I love you.” 

Kal wasn’t sure if he was making himself understood, but Bruce did understand because he always did. He leaned over to kiss Kal on the forehead, even as he removed the hand on his chain. “I love you, Kal. That’s why I have to get that rock away from you.” 

Raskol was gone and each step he took made Kal feel better physically. Still, he lay on the bathroom floor for a long time before getting ready to retire. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

They should have taken longer to plan this out. Or Kal should have made Bruce come with him and left the rest of the world to suffer. Maybe he should have just thrown a large rock to set off the bomb, and flown away with Bruce in his arms. Or maybe Kal should have gone on TV and told everybody to be nicer to each other, confessed he was in love with a man and flown away, hoping they wouldn’t come looking for him. What they had done was take an opportunity without planning out every detail and Bruce was in trouble. 

Batman was standing trial for the murder of Superman, as they needed someone to blame. In his shackles and purple vest, Raskol glared down the might of the Soviet Union. Kal was glad he was no longer in charge and tasked with telling the government that Raskol was making them look ridiculous. His words pleaded ignorance, even as Batman’s attitude said he knew way more than he was telling. He could have sarcastically confessed and they would have executed him with relief. Instead he fought their conclusions and worked to prove his innocence, like it was a game for him. He’d be brought to the courthouse each morning with fresh injuries which never showed up on the camera. 

This was where the problem with the plan showed up. Superman couldn’t rescue Batman! If he went in and flew Raskol away they would know he wasn’t dead, and they would come looking for him. They might come to make him their leader again, or they might come to kill him for betraying them, but they would come. 

Alexander Lebezyatnikov would have to rescue Raskol, and that was the problem. Kal had learned to be subtle in his disguise, but outright sneakiness escaped him. When the farce of a trial concluded each night, Kal tore himself away from the televised event and went to find a new place in the world. 

After two weeks, somebody in the trial understood they looked like idiots. Friday, after the lunch break, the judge had returned long enough to declare Batman guilty. The shocked populace knew Batman was innocent but the judge declared Batman should be convinced to confess between now and his sentencing date. A not so subtle code to tell the world Batman would be tortured into confessing before he was executed. Batman had smirked into the camera as his sentence was read, like he had been hoping for a long and painful death. Kal understood the smirk, because the change in circumstances might be all that was needed to free Bruce. 

Those who had once been Kal’s interrogators remembered Batman, and they remembered Kal’s words. Pain wouldn’t break this one and his trial had shown him intelligent. Showing a creativity Kal was surprised by, they devised a way to break Batman. Under the watchful eyes of the television audience and shifts of men with whips, Batman was given a large pile of heavy logs. 

A pallet thirty feet away showed where he was to take these logs. The task wouldn’t have bothered him when he first came here but the shackles and year of inactivity made it difficult now. When he stumbled or faltered the whips encouraged him. When he finished he was given the instruction to return the logs to their original position. Anger and hatred had flashed across Batman’s face at that and Kal had felt cold grip his spine. The task would exhaust his body, but the monotony would do far worse things to his razor sharp mind. 

He was given water, but no meals and no rest. He was stumbling now, as his overworked body and bored mind began to shut down. Kal whispered encouragement to him, telling him he only had to make it until Saturday night. 

Batman did make it, even though his back was bleeding freely from the whips. When he stumbled and fell to his knees, Bruce braced for whips that didn’t come. Through the haze in his mind he heard shouts as lights popped and the electricity went out. Flames lit the city as the four massive power plants went up at the same time. People stood together and asked what they should do, ignoring the bleeding man at their feet. Bruce thought his vision was fading out again as all his captors seemed to fall over at the same time and Batman’s symbol was burning on the wall behind him, before falling away into blackness. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

“Supper’s almost ready.” 

“I’ll go get it, sir.” Bruce’s reply was slurred and automatic, even as his eyes fluttered open. His eyes found and held Kal’s for a moment before confusion set in. He glanced down at the soft cotton sheet under the crown of his head. Cotton, not silk and Kal stood beside the bed in workers clothes and no glasses. “I’m confused.” 

Kal laughed, almost giddy. “I’ll bet you are. But you are also awake, at long last. I was working outside when I heard you start to wake up. How do you feel?” 

“Sore and hungry.” 

“Good, so let’s go meet the cook.” Bruce gave him a questioning look but forced himself to get out of bed. 

Kal showed him to the bathroom and then helped him pull on a pair of sweat pants over his shackles. Kal walked down the stairs first, so if Bruce fell he could catch him. Bruce was waking up, getting an eyeful of the house as Kal led him to the table. Bruce sat where directed but jumped to his feet when Kal emerged from the kitchen with a plate in each hand, trailed by an older woman holding her own plate. “Bruce, this is Martha Kent.” 

Bruce tried to bow, only to wobble. Martha guided him back into his chair with a kind smile. Kal placed a large plate of food in front of him and a gentle kiss on his forehead before sitting down. Bruce ignored the food to turn questioning eyes on Kal and Kal grinned back at him. 

“Eat, while I explain.” Bruce dug into the food, but his focus was on Kal’s words. 

“During the trial, I went out seeking a place for us. I found this farm and thought it was deserted. Mrs. Kent came after me with her shotgun, and I found out otherwise. She’d been having trouble getting workers and fighting off the raiders. I told her we would help with both if she would let us stay here, and I told her we were in love. She said as long as we didn’t have sex in her kitchen, she was fine with that.” 

Bruce turned a surprised look at Mrs. Kent and her ready acceptance. She wasn’t listening to the conversation at all and it penetrated Bruce’s fogged mind that Kent was a weird name. “Kal, where are we?” 

“Outside of a place call Smallville, Kansas, in America. Nobody will look for us here.” Kal was proud of his hiding place and confused by Bruce’s annoyed look. “What’s wrong?” 

“Wouldn’t it be polite to converse in English, then?” Both Mrs. Kent and Kal looked at Bruce in surprise, so he turned a charming smile on her. “Mrs. Kent, the food is delicious and it was rude of us to talk in another language in front of you.” 

“Call me Martha.” She smiled at him with genuine warmth. “I’m only sorry I don’t have more to offer, you look like you need more than a few good meals.” 

Before Bruce could reply, Kal pulled him around for a quick kiss. “I didn’t know you spoke English!” 

“My friend, that I was arrested with, Alfred. He was a reporter with the BBC and taught me quite a lot before we were taken.” 

“British, huh? That explains the accent.” Kal grinned at Bruce’s annoyed look and switched their plates. “Finish your food and I’ll give you the grand tour.” 

Bruce looked he his plate, Kal’s plate and then sent Kal another annoyed look. He must have been hungry though, for he did eat Kal’s offering while Kal and Martha made plans for the farm. Kal was eager for the tour and jumped up as soon as Bruce was done eating. He carried the dishes into the kitchen and returned to take Bruce outside. Martha gave them a knowing grin and called over her shoulder as she went into the kitchen. 

“I’ll see you both for breakfast.” 

Bruce smirked at her words and reached for Kal. Grinning, Kal backed away and led Bruce outside. Bruce shuffled along behind, grinning at Kal’s enthusiasm for the farm around them. Kal would point out a job that needed doing like a kid pointing to his favorite candy in the store. He brought Bruce into the barn, to show him the support beam that needed to be replaced and a change came over him as he turned to face Bruce. 

“A great deal of work that you can’t help with in those shackles.” 

Bruce took a step back and tried to get the happy Kal back. “You can take them off, anytime you want.” 

Kal floated closer and locked his eyes on Bruce’s. “You know what you have to say to make me take them off.” 

“Back on that, are we?” 

“If you can’t promise, then why didn’t you let them execute you?” 

“I knew you would come for me, I was stalling for time.” 

Kal smiled at that. They hadn’t even discussed it but they had both known it. Maybe that’s what kept Bruce from promising all this time; he needed a promise of his own. 

“I promise to always come for you.” The joy between them was almost tangible and only increased at Bruce’s quick reply. 

“I promise not to take my life, while you are here to come for me.” Kal’s eyes glowed as he selected where to start. Bruce leaned up against a nearby table and pulled off his sweat pants and shoes. Naked he looked up to instruct Kal. “Slice the cuffs and mind the chains. I think they may come in handy around here.” 

Neatly, precisely, Kal sliced the manacles on the feet and hands. Two more bursts of heat vision and the locked belts fell to the ground. Bruce rubbed at the dead looking skin that had been under his wrist manacles, but the blazing eyes he trained on Kal suggested his mind wasn’t on his body at all. 

“Now I suppose I should thank you.” 

Kal shivered at the tone, but stepped back. 

“Bruce, I know you’re happy to be out of those, but I have one more chain to remove.” 

“What?” The confusion was back in Bruce’s eyes and voice. Kal smirked into that confusion. 

“After I rescued you, while you were passed out in my arms, I took you to the doctor. Leslie runs a clinic in this weird city called Gotham. Part of why you’re so confused is the pain medication she gave you.” Bruce looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so Kal did. 

He knelt in front of Bruce and leaned in to lick the tip of Bruce’s penis. Bruce shuddered, but forgot to breathe as his erection grew. Gently, seductively Clark started doing the things Bruce had shown him, made him love over their time together. Bruce’s muscles melted until Clark had to lay him on the ground to finish what he was doing. His gasping breath was interrupted for a long moan as Bruce came and Kal finished giving pleasure for the first time. Kal molded himself to the limp body of the man he could finally call his lover. 

“Leslie found the P-ring barbaric and was more than happy to find a way to remove it. I could have told you that when you first woke up, but I wanted you to swear you would live.” Deep breathes were Kal’s only answer for a long time, so he thought an exhausted Bruce was planning on sleeping. Kal grinned at the idea that Bruce could finally get comfortable to sleep without the chains. The soft voice that finally spoke assured Kal that he would be carrying a sleeping Bruce to bed tonight. 

“Kal?” 

“Yes, Bruce?” Kal replied in the same soft tone, not wanting to be the one that broke the spell of the night. 

“If you love me, you’ll do something for me.” 

“Anything, Bruce.” 

“Go into the house and get some oil.” As far as Kal was concerned, that statement broke the spell of the night. If Bruce needed oil, why wouldn’t the stuff in the barn do? Maybe he hadn’t used the right English word; it wasn’t his native language after all. 

“Oil?” 

“Yes. Cooking oil, body lotion, cooking grease, jelly, anything you can find for lubricant.” 

Fine, so Bruce did use the word he meant. “What for?” 

“Go get it and I’ll show you.” There was a promise there that Kal didn’t understand yet, but anything to make Bruce happy. 

“Alright.” 

“And Kal?” 

“Yes, Bruce?” 

“When you get back, be naked.” Suddenly, Kal understood what the lubricant was for and took a look. Bruce was mostly hard again and Kal grinned at the sight. 

“So you’re not going to sleep then.” 

“I may never sleep again. I hope you’re up for it.” 

“So do I.” Kal grinned as he kissed Bruce before going to get the oil as fast as he could. Things were off to a good start in their new life as equals, and eventually he’d get around to telling Bruce that Mrs. Kent alternated between calling him Clark and son. Kal liked both, almost as much as he liked the name Bruce. 


End file.
